Family Secrets
by NoDakGrl
Summary: Monk/CSI crossover. To solve a murder in San Francisco, help is brought in from out of state. CHARACTER DEATH, there, you've been warned. Starting out K , but might change as the story progresses.
1. Chapter 1

I wanted to try a crossover of my two favorite shows: CSI and Monk. I've tried reading other crossover stories, but they don't capture the characters. I want to make a go at it, anyone interested in helping me out, feel free to let me know!

Warning you right now: You are not going to like the beginning of this story, but I can't think of another way that these characters can come together.

CSI & Monk don't belong to me, but I am totally theirs.

San Francisco

The crime scene tape was the only colorful item in the bleak grey apartment complex. She knew before getting out of the car that this was going to test Mr. Monk's patience and control. The walls were covered in graffiti, trash overflowed onto the ground, a nightmare for someone of Adrian's temperament.

"Natalie, are you sure that this is the address?" Adrian Monk was not one to turn away a case, but looking at the complex before for him might just change his mind.

"Oh look Mr. Monk, there's the police cars parked over there!" Natalie parked the vehicle and grabbed her purse. Monk slowly exited the car, being careful to shut the door and not touch it with his hands. Natalie always made a point to keep her car clean, but her version of clean didn't hold a candle to her boss' idea of clean. When Leland called her to ask them to come he made to sure tell her to pack plenty of wipes, she'd need them for Monk.

The apartments looked like they would have been very charming, about 40 years ago, but due to time and neighborhoods changing, the once quaint townhouses now took on a more crack house appeal. Sure there were some doors that showed that the owners tried to make them presentable, but it was like putting lipstick on a pig, pretty color to look at, wrong thing to put it on.

Apartment 15C was one of them. A cheery daisy wreath hung on the door, but the flowers were faded and some were pulled off the arrangement giving it a haggard look. Monk was having trouble walking to the door. The sidewalk was cracked in several places, making a solid step almost impossible. Gingerly, he made his way to the door, but in Natalie's estimation it would take another 5 minutes for him to make it to where she was at now. She took her coat and covered the wreath so there should not be too much of a problem getting into the house. If Monk were to see the wreath, well, she didn't want to think of that right now.

She was about to knock on the door when Lt. Disher opened the door to rush past. Usually, Randy always walked with a swagger, confident that he was the right man for the case. This time however, the young detective was pale, to the point of looking like he was going to get sick. Not realizing what he was doing, he pushed by Natalie and barely got past Monk before he started vomiting. Monk cried out, if there was one thing that he just couldn't handle, it was germs. Sidewalk cracks forgotten, he raced to Natalie's side.

"I, I need a wipe," Monk was looking at his shoes. "He got me on my shoes, I need a wipe please Natalie."

Unfortunately for Monk, Natalie wasn't paying attention to his shoes. She raced to Randy's side, holding him up and rubbing his back as he saw the last of his breakfast coming up on the lawn before him.

"Randy! Are you ok? Let me get you something to clean up with." Natalie cried as she frantically was looking for a wipe, not for Monk, but for Randy. Monk got increasingly more frantic as Natalie was quickly wiping Randy's brow.

"Natalie, I think he got some….on my shoes….I need to get it off……Natalie!" Monk was as pale as Randy now.

Natalie looked up and saw her boss about to keel over at the sight of vomit on the ground. "I'm sorry Mr. Monk, here you go." She got a wipe out of her purse, and handed it to him.

He looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "Could you get it off for me? I can't touch his ….." Monk couldn't even say vomit without wanting to do the same thing.

"Please Mr. Monk, I'm trying to help Randy,"Natalie said as she looked down at his shoes. "Really, there isn't anything on your shoes to take off. Randy wasn't that close to you to get any of that on you."

"You don't know that." Monk was determined to not touch his shoes. "Please Natalie, would you please get it off?"

Randy straightened up, wiping his mouth with the wipe. "It's all right. I can take care of myself." He smiled a less than reassuring smile at her so she could tend to her boss.

Natalie bent down and wiped the imaginary vomit off Monk's shoes. There was never a dull moment as Adrian Monk's assistant, but sometimes his idiosyncrasies were too much too bear. She looked up at him and said, "All better?"

"Yes, thank you." Monk relaxed immediately.

Natalie turned to Randy, who still looked pretty ashen, touched his arm gently and asked "What happened? Are you coming down with something?"

"No, it's just that some crime scenes are a little hard to take." Randy pulled her aside to speak to her quietly. "I hope that you brought plenty of wipes, I don't think Monk is not going to last very long in there."

"Is it that bad?" Working with Monk, she had seen plenty of crime scenes, but nothing that Monk couldn't handle.

"Just keep a close watch on him, it looks like a bomb went off in there, but we haven't gotten a straight answer yet from the only one still standing. The captain will explain everything when we get inside." Randy opened the door and led them through the house.

If the outside looked bleak, the inside was an about face. The living area was neat with older furniture, some pictures on the wall. It was in an order that Monk could even handle. As they walked towards the kitchen area, it was another story. It had looked as if something exploded and shrapnel was everywhere. The cabinets below the sink were ripped off the hinges, with the wall to the opposite of the sink blackened and charred. A slim dark haired woman, looking to be in her 30s lay crumpled on the floor. Her hands still clung something; Natalie couldn't see what it was. Her face was not recognizable. She heard a stifled sob, looked up to see Randy holding a fist to his mouth before turning away.

Monk looked warily at Randy and stepped to the side. "If you are going to get sick again, please stay clear of me. We're right in the middle of cold and flu season and I can' get sick. You wouldn't like me if I got sick." He turned to Natalie, "Wipe, please before he gets anything on me."

Randy shook his head, "I'm not sick."

"Then what is it then? What makes this case any different?" Natalie was intrigued. She had never seen Randy in such a state before. He almost looked, well, normal. Too many times he hid behind this "tough detective" façade and she was taken aback by his tears.

Out of a side room walked Capt. Leland Stottlemeyer. By the look on his face, it had already been a long day. Seeing Randy, he shook his head. "Didn't I tell you to get out of here? Does 'conflict of interest' mean anything to you?" The Captain was flustered, which wasn't as big a surprise to anyone standing there. Randy frustrated him on an hourly basis, but this time, they could tell it was out of general concern, not at the young detective's actions.

"Yes sir, but I know I can help…."

"Enough! Randy, I do not want you here. Let me make this clear, you can leave one of two ways: on your own with some measure of dignity, or you leave escorted by San Francisco's finest and your badge in my pocket. Either way, you are leaving this crime scene. Do you read me?" By the look on his face, he meant every word.

Randy hung his head and ran his fingers through his hair roughly. "I read you. Loud and clear." Randy turned to go.

The captain turned to Natalie and Monk. "Adrian, I'm glad you could make it. I need your expertise in handling something, well, rather delicate."

"You know I'm always willing to help you Leland," Monk looked at the woman and started to walk towards the kitchen while he was still talking. "That woman is holding something in her hand…"

Leland stopped him before he could finish. "Monk I need you to do something different for me this time. The victim's mother is still in a state of shock over finding her daughter like this, and I can't seem to get her to talk at all."

Natalie started for the door, "Do you need me to talk to her?"

"Probably later, when she calms down a bit, but time is of the essence and I need someone who can talk to her where she's at right now, and Monk here is the guy to do it." He opened the door and let Monk and Natalie in.

The bedroom was small. The poor woman sitting on the bed looked wasted away. She probably was in her fifties but easily looked like she was in her seventies. Time had not been kind to her at all. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled up into a bun. She was trying to flatten a piece of paper that had been crumpled up, but wasn't having much success. That look in her eyes was familiar to Natalie, she had seen it dozens of times when Monk was working around his house. That look of determination. She was going to straighten that piece of paper, and nothing was going to deter her from it.

Monk sat down next to her. "Paper. Nothing worse to straighten out."

The woman quickly looked up "It was crumpled up on the floor. My daughter isn't messy, and I wanted to see what it was."

"Have you tried using a pencil to smooth it out?"

She frowned, "I need a no. 2 pencil to get it just right. I'm all out."

Monk brightened, "I can help you with that," turning to Natalie "can I have a pencil please?"

Natalie quickly retrieved a no 2 pencil from her purse and handed to Monk, who in turn handed to the woman. Her face relaxed as she smoothed out the paper, seeming to be satisfied with her accomplishment. He pointed out where she missed a spot, and she seemed to calm down as he sat next to her. The next thing he did startled Natalie, because it wasn't something he did often.

Looking at her, he held out his hand "I am Adrian Monk. I work with the police department, and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions."

The woman carefully took his hand in hers and said "My name is Laura. Laura Sidle."


	2. Chapter 2

_This story haunts me. It really does. I can't stop thinking about it. Thanks for the reviews so far. I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it out._

_CBS, USA own the rights to the characters. I use them shamefully for my own pleasure. Please read and review!_

With much persuading, Adrian was able to get the grief struck woman to talk to him. They looked at the paper together and for the first time, he felt a kindred spirit in Laura Sidle. He knew that his friends loved him, and he didn't doubt for a minute that they tried to understand him. They just didn't get it. Laura did. With anyone else, a crumpled piece of paper would just be opened and looked at to see what was written. With Adrian, the creases in the paper were like a jackhammer to the eyes. He couldn't read what was on there until all the creases were smooth. No wonder Laura wouldn't talk to Leland right away, she had to find out why that paper was crumpled up on the floor. Smoothing it like she did took concentration; she couldn't answer those questions until the creases were gone, she could read the paper, then she could answer all of the Captain's questions. It made perfect sense to him, but frustrated the fire out of everyone else.

They looked at the paper together. It was a piece of ledger paper, the kind you would use for accounting. The handwriting was small and neat, the writer kept record of every dime. Looking at the dates didn't mean much to him, until he saw the fourth date stood out: December 14, 1997. It was the day that Trudy was murdered. There was a deduction of $2,500, the description stated, to _W.T. for services rendered._

That has to be a coincidence, he thought.

"Do these dates mean anything to you Laura? Is this your daughter's handwriting?"

"None of them ring a bell, but this isn't Sara's writing. This looks like my son's, his name is Michael." Laura caressed the paper, still attempting to smooth out that last little crease on the left corner.

"That is your daughter in the kitchen?" She nodded. "Her name seems familiar to me." Adrian was very good at remembering names, but he couldn't remember where he had heard that name before.

Capt. Stottlemeyer was deep in thought but looked up when her name was mentioned. "Sara Sidle. Didn't she work for the Coroners office some years back?" Laura nodded again.

Leland sighed, now Randy's outburst made sense. "No wonder Randy carried on so much. When we saw that facial recognition would have been impossible, I found a family picture in the living room. He saw it, and I swear if he didn't look like he saw a ghost. I asked him if he knew her, and he told me he loved her. Next thing you know, he was out the door."

He looked at Monk and explained. "About nine years ago, Randy did a lot of side work at the Coroners office, always trying to find a reason to go to the morgue. I didn't know why, it seemed kind of freaky at the time." Leland picked up a picture on the end table, looking at the picture of the family. "Now I see why he did. Your daughter is lovely."

Tears started to form in Laura's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

Leland squatted down so he would be at eye level with Laura. "Would it be ok if we go to my office? It is going to be awhile for the forensics team to finish, and I would like to ask you some more questions if it would be all right."

Laura stopped smoothing the paper, turned to look at Monk she asked "Will you be there with me?"

"Absolutely. Natalie and I will take you to the precinct in her car." Adrian got up from the sofa and helped Laura slowly get up.

"Then I'll go. Promise me that you will find whoever did this, Adrian."

"You have my word."


	3. Chapter 3

_It amazes me how some ideas demand to be recognized. The last chapter was short, but this one should prove to be longer. This is Laura's turn now. Don't worry, the CSI team will hear of this soon, but I want to set the stage. _

_Please read and review, it means so much to me. I welcome any suggestions._

The Captains office wasn't very big. All the seats were taken. Laura wondered about the young detective that left so quickly. _I do hope that he is all right,_ she thought. She didn't know him; she didn't know any of Sara's friends. Those she considered her family were in Las Vegas, and Laura didn't know any of them. Truth be told, she really didn't know her own daughter. She didn't think that she would be much help to the detectives seated with her, but she was going to try.

"Ms. Sidle, had Sara been staying with you for very long?" It had been a long time since Laura had been in a police station, and then it was under much different circumstances. The captain was gracious with her; obviously he didn't recognize her name, which suited her just fine.

"She has been here for 3 months," she told him.

"Where did she come from?"

"Las Vegas. She lived there for about 8 years." She remembered the day she showed up at her door step. It had been so long since they had seen each other; she almost didn't recognize her own daughter, until she smiled that grin of hers. That smile could melt icebergs.

"What did she do in Vegas?"

"She was a criminalist for the city's crime lab. I wasn't expecting her to see me, she just showed up at my house and she has been here ever since."

"How was your relationship with Sara?"

She sighed. "There was no relationship before she showed up. All I know about her is what she has told me since she has been here."

He was taking notes as she spoke. It unnerved her. She knew what was coming next.

"Were you estranged from your daughter before this?"

"My daughter didn't want anything to do with me for a very long time, Captain. She was thirteen years old when she was taken from me. These three months have been the longest time in 23 years that we've spent anytime together. She was angry. I don't blame her." Her statements were so matter-of-fact it stunned everyone in the room.

As she was talking, Randy walked into the room. He had a file in his hand and was quite flustered. The young detective stormed right up to Laura and threw the file on the Captain's desk.

"It says here that you were released after serving a 12 year sentence for murder 1." Randy was fuming. "When were you going to let us know about that? You take out your husband, did you take out Sara too. What has she ever done to you?"

Captain Stottlemeyer jumped up out of his chair and grabbed Randy by the arm. "You are way out of line Randall. Ms. Sidle wants to find out who killed her daughter, she's here to make a statement, not make a confession. Come with me."

He dragged Randy out the door, shutting the door soundly before getting in his face. The Captain was livid, she could see that clearly. Adrian and his assistant were at her side immediately apologizing for their colleague's actions. She wasn't angry with him. Since her time outside, she realized a truth spoken of again and again in prison: you can pay your debt to society, but you can't make them forget.

"Laura, please forgive Randy for his outburst. That was completely out of line." Natalie gave her a tissue to wipe the tears coming down.

"I'm used to it dear. You can get out of prison, but you never leave it. It's still a big cloud over my head, following me everywhere I go." She blew her nose. "It was my fault, I could have left my husband at anytime, but chose another way."

Captain Stottlemeyer entered the office, making sure the door was locked this time. In his hand was a badge that he tossed onto his desk. "Ms. Sidle, I assure you that you are not being investigated. You are not a suspect, your alibi is sound. You are here to give us a background on your daughter, nothing more. I do apologize for the lieutenant's actions. They were out of line. If you do not wish to be here anymore, I understand."

"Thank you for your concern Captain, but my daughter is dead. I have no idea why someone would hurt her, but I want answers. If my little bit of information can help you find those answers, I'm staying."

The elder detective took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped it over his brow. _Poor man, he looks like he aged 10 years in the past 5 minutes._

"I appreciate your help. May we continue?"

"Of course."

"Do you think of anyone that had a reason to hurt your daughter?" He picked up his pen to write. "Was she fleeing Vegas for any reason?"

"I don't know if she had any enemies. She left someone there with full intentions of going back to him. Sara left Vegas to clear out the skeletons out of her closet." She looked down at her hands. "I was one of them, Mike was the other."

"Have you seen your son lately? Do you have anyway to reach him? I'd like to ask him some questions."

"I haven't seen Mike for about 4 months now. He sees me, we might go out to dinner, and then he'll leave. No phone number, I wouldn't know where to start. He's been in and out of jail since his teens; you might have a better chance locating him than I could."

He wrote some notes down and put away his pen. "Laura, I thank you for your time. I am going to contact the Vegas police department and see if I can talk to some of her coworkers there. I'll get someone to find an address for your son. If I hear anything, you will be the first to know."

Laura looked at Adrian, "Will you be helping them?"

Adrian looked at her and nodded, "Yes, I will. I'd like to look around your house. Does your son leave things for you to hold in between visits?"

Laura thought on that for a moment and nodded. "I have a bad back, bending down is torture so all my base cabinets are empty. I keep all my pantry and cleaning items in the upper wall cabinets and the walk in closet. I let him keep things in there. I don't bother with it, and I never had a problem with it before." She paused, "I don't know what he puts in there. Sara has been looking around, going through his boxes. She was very concerned with Mike, but she didn't say why. You can look through my house. I know that you will be careful."


	4. Chapter 4

_CSI is now called. I hope that you guys like it._

Gil Grissom wasn't in a rush. He had finished his last case for the evening and was signing off the last sets of reports from Greg on the 419 in Henderson. Closing the file he sat back, took off his glasses and tried to massage the kink out of his neck. Looking up, his eyes went to the branch that held the cocoon. It should have opened by now. His worst fear was that one of the cleaning ladies had knocked over the branch and in the wake the pupa was damaged. If he had calculated the time correctly, the metamorphosis would have been complete and a lovely brown moth would have been flying around the crime lab. Unfortunately, it was a week overdue, and no signs of the moth trying break out of the cocoon.

Looking at that branch reminded him of Sara. That was his gift to her when he was away. She gave it back to him when she left. The ache of that loss still was there, no matter how many double shifts he did.

Looking around his office, he couldn't find much of anything that didn't remind him of her. Especially when he went home, there were memories of gifts given, letters sent and received. Ecklie already made him scale back on the doubles that he was doing, so now all he did when he went home was walk Hank and work on his thesis. Life was pretty drab without her there.

A knock on his door woke him from his daydream. Jim stood there at the doorway. He looked pale, worn down.

"Good morning Jim."

"Gil, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you." Grissom motioned for Jim to sit down in his office.

"What's wrong?"

"It's about Sara."

The diner was pretty busy for a Sunday. Warrick, Nick and Greg were at their favorite booth digging into some waffles.

At Catherine's, she had just got out of the shower and was getting ready to sleep.

All at once their phones started ringing.

On them was the same text message:

Meeting - my office - 20 minutes - no exceptions. Grissom.

Calls to him were futile; he must have turned it off after he sent the message. As one they headed back to work. If Grissom wasn't answering his phone, something was very, very wrong.

Grissom was in the bathroom, splashing water on his face. It all seemed so surreal to him.

"_I just received a call from San Fran's police department." Brass said slowly. "Apparently there was a suspected homicide there and they need to contact those of graveyard to ask them some questions."_

"_Sara was involved?"_

"_Sara was the victim. I talked to a Captain Leland Stottlemeyer and requests that you and others close to her come to San Francisco for questioning."_

"_Surely they don't think that any of us are responsible."_

"_No suspects as of yet, but he wants to talk to those that knew her well. You know that she's been staying with her mother?" Gil nodded. "She has tried to be a help, but she knows so little about Sara that Capt. Stottlemeyer said she wasn't much help."_

"_When does he want my team?"_

"_Tomorrow."_

The conversation was so short, but it turned his life completely upside down. Sara is dead. There would be no reunion that they had both hoped for. She joined the ghosts that haunted her life for so long.

He walked to his office, and much of the group was there. Nick, Warrick and Greg were sitting on the couch, Brass was still in the chair where Grissom left him, and Ecklie was pacing in the office. Why Ecklie felt he had to be there was beyond his understanding.

"Where's Catherine? Has anybody heard from her?" Grissom couldn't wait much longer.

"She called and said that she was pulling in to the parking garage as we speak," Ecklie said. Pulling Grissom aside, he spoke quietly, "Anything you need? Just let me know."

Grissom put a hand on his shoulder, "Thanks Conrad, I appreciate that. Let me talk to my team and I will let you know what we decide later. Fro right now, I just want Jim and the team here."

Ecklie nodded quickly, "I'll be in my office." Saying that, he left quickly.

The guys sat there, not speaking, not really knowing what to say. All they know that it must be serious enough to have everyone there. Their boss wasn't going to say anything until Catherine got there.

Within moments, Catherine rushed in. She looked flustered, but when she saw the looks on Jim and Gil's face, she didn't say a word and sat in the only chair left in the office. Grissom closed the door and slowly went to his desk and sat on it. It looked as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, and someone took a bat to his knees.

"I don't know how to say this. I'm having a problem believing it myself….." Then he broke. The sobs coming from him shook his frame, and he couldn't hold them back anymore. Catherine rushed to his side, trying to hold him up. She looked frightened. Grissom didn't display emotion, that wasn't his style. Seeing their boss and friend breaking down was almost too hard to bear.

Grissom looked to Jim and nodded, and Jim got up to explain. "I received a call from the San Francisco homicide division. They are not sure the whole story as of yet…"

"No!" Greg jumped up from the chair. "I know you are not going to say what I think you are!"

Grissom looked at Greg with pain etched on his face. "She's gone Greg."

The effect on the group was immediate. Nick put his head in his hands; his sobs shook his whole body. Warrick put his arm around his friend's shoulders. He knew what Sara meant to him; they were like family and Nick and Sara were especially close.

Greg looked like he was going to explode. He got in Grissom's face, a wave of emotions going across his face, but the main one- anger remained.

"I blame you! You hear me Grissom? You selfish bastard!" His finger was in Grissom's chest and he looked like he wanted to hit him.

Jim tried to pull him away, but it wasn't going to be easy. His words were like blows to Grissom's gut. "That's enough Greg. You don't know…" Jim tried to tell him.

"No! You don't understand, but he does!" He pulled away from Jim and got back in Gil's face again. "You know, you know the truth! You couldn't just leave her alone could you? You make me sick!"

Greg started walking away as Catherine called out "That's not fair Greg, he loved her. You know that!"

He turned around and Gil saw the rage in his eyes. Ever since Sara left, Greg has been indifferent if not outright rude to him. He let it go, thinking it was just a case of missing her. But it was more, he saw that now.

"I know this, he took advantage of her. You were her supervisor! You had control! If you just would have just left her alone, she'd be here right now. She wouldn't be dead. I despise you." With those last words spat out, he walked out of the lab.

Nick's sobs stopped when he heard Greg's words. He looked at his boss and asked, "Do you want me to go after him?"

Gil sighed, "No, it would just make matters worse." He looked at Jim and nodded for him to continue.

"The homicide detectives want people that knew her. The clues that they have are minimal, in fact they are still processing the scene. They want people that knew her best come to San Francisco and give a statement."

Nick stood up and looked at Grissom directly, his eyes red with tears, but determined. "I'm in. You know Greg has to go, I can have him ride with me, so there won't be any more incidents."

Jim looked at Gil. "I'm in too."

Catherine looked at Gil, regret etching her face. "Do all of us have to go? I've known Sara for a long time now, but it's not like we were especially close."

Gil looked at his closest friend, "That's fine Catherine; I was hoping that you could take over supervisor duties while I am gone."

She breathed a sigh of relief. Warrick looked at Grissom and said, "Sara was a good friend, but do you want the lab so short handed while you guys are gone? I can stay here with Cath, and if they need to talk to us, we'll go after you guys come back. Would that work?"

Grissom breathed a sigh of relief. He was worried that someone was going to be offended if they couldn't go to San Francisco. He was glad that Warrick saw that and volunteered to stay behind.

"All right then, let's meet back here in 6 hours. That should give us plenty of time."

Gil looked at Jim and Nick. He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but he knew with his friends there he could cope. He just hoped that Greg could set his feelings aside so they could find out who killed Sara.

_Please let me know what you think. I want to make sure I'm writing these guys ok._


	5. Chapter 5

CSI & Monk don't belong to me, but I am totally theirs.

This a look into the minds of Greg, Nick and Jim. All have had close relationships with Sara. I hope that I got the characters good.

Please let me know what you think.

* * *

Rage

All there was is rage. Greg wanted to lash out at everyone. He wouldn't discriminate. His Sara was gone, never to return, and the world would pay for it. All Jim had to say was _San Francisco homicide_ and Greg knew immediately why they were all there. All he saw was red, and all he felt was rage….at first.

It was such a natural thing, to want to attack his boss. Greg wanted to hurt him. He wanted him to feel what he felt. The rage exploded inside him, but it wasn't what consumed him….

Hate

This was the bad seed that was planted long ago. Back when he found out about the affair. Of all the people that she could have given her heart to, she gave it to her boss. He knew that she cared for him, everyone did, but the fact that he reciprocated was not known until her abduction. Sara needed to be loved, and in Greg's mind there was only one person that could have done that properly, and that was himself.

The hate was small then, but after he saw the ramifications to her career, her other relationships, and at the end her sanity, the hate for Gil Grissom grew until it almost consumed him. He stood by as she started breaking down. He stood by and did nothing as she started to crack under the pressure. He did nothing, and then she was gone.

Greg went home, grabbed the essentials, and raced back to the lab. He was going to San Francisco, he didn't care if he had to ride by himself, he was going to do whatever he could to avenge her, and hopefully quench the hate inside. This was going to be his last case with Grissom, and it seemed appropriate it would involve Sara.

* * *

Nick couldn't seem to get his breath. When Jim told them of Sara's death it seemed like all the air came out of his lungs and now they were stuck together and he couldn't get a good breath in after. Getting his bag together for the trip gave him some time to think about her.

Sara was the little sister that he never had. They related to each other in ways that only close siblings could. He was the one that she would come to in her times of need, and after what had happened to her, she came to him more often, just to talk about what had happened. She couldn't talk about it with Grissom. He remembered their last conversation together:

"Sara, you need to let him know what is going on," Nick had pleaded. "You are in pain, and I think that you coming back so soon to work was a mistake."

"Nick don't start with me again," Sara really only wanted a sounding board in Nick, not really someone who expected to answer back. Nick was sick of her crying, especially when her fiancée walked about like he had no clue as to her emotional state.

"No, I'm done with this Sara. I'm done being the "other man" as it were. If you can't talk about this with your "fiancée" why would you even consider marriage with him?"

Sara tried to give him a hug, but Nick had turned away. He was fed up with the whole charade.

"If you want to talk, you know I will be there for you, but I can't stand to hear you cry and know that Grissom has no clue. You need to tell him, or I will." Nick folded his arms across his chest as Sara was wiping tears from her face.

"Ok, I hear you. I'll talk to him Nick. Please don't be mad, but it's just that I've always been able to talk about anything to you. Gil doesn't understand what I am going through, and I don't think he ever will. I love him with all my heart; it's trusting him with it that I have the problem. I'm damaged goods; I've got a lot of skeletons in my closet." Sara had sat down on couch in his house as she said this. Nick sat down next to her, putting his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. He loved Sara, she was family in his eyes, and he wanted her to make sure of the decisions that she was going to make.

To Nick, he thought that they worked it out. When she left that day, it was a matter of days until she left for good. Her absence hurt him deep inside his heart. He replayed their last conversation over and over again. He tried to think of what he could have said that might have changed the outcome. Maybe if he wasn't so insistent that she go to Grissom. Maybe if he would have just shut his mouth and would have been the sounding board that she wanted, she might have stayed. He didn't know, and now, it seems, that he never will.

He got in his Denali and started towards the lab. It was going to be a long ride, but he had a feeling that it was going to be a quiet one. He hoped that Greg took the time to calm down so he could be in a proper frame of mind when they got there. He didn't want to break up anymore fights today.

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Jim was tired. It was days like these that could wear a body out. The bad part was that the day wasn't over, it really was beginning. The news of Sara's death hit him like a sledge hammer. Ever since she came to Las Vegas, Jim took Sara under his wing and showed her the ropes. She was the daughter that Ellie never was. On birthdays, holidays and even Father's Day he would get little things from her. She never let him forget how much she appreciated him over the years. He knew about her relationship with Grissom, and even though he didn't really much approve, he said nothing. 2 people so much alike would soon realize that it wouldn't work out, and Jim had figured that when Sara realized this, she would come to him for help and advice.

She never did.

Oh, the signs that the relationship was winding down was all there. The tired, sad look in her eyes never went away. He had always intended to get her to go out for coffee or breakfast with him, so they could talk, but sadly it never transpired, and now she was out of his life forever. The ache in his heart couldn't have been worse had she really been his daughter.

He couldn't really blame Greg for his reaction. He knew that the young CSI had always held a candle to her, though it was painfully obvious to everyone BUT Greg that a relationship beyond friendship would never happen. He was more of a kid brother to Sara than could ever be a lover. Jim empathized with the distraught man; it was going to be hard going on knowing that someone that you loved wasn't coming back.

He sighed deeply, and set his bags down in his office. Grissom was going to need him more than ever. Jim had to be there for him, even though he needed a friend as much. He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief; no one was going to see tears from him today. He didn't think he had any left to cry…..

* * *

They had all gotten there in the allotted amount of time. Without speaking, they all got into the Denali and started the trip to get see Sara for the last time. What happened after that, they couldn't say, but for now, with one mind and one accord, they would do whatever they could to find Sara's killer.

**Please let me know what you think!**

_**Please review and respond! I really appreciate all input!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**The hits I have been getting on this story have blown me away. Thanks to those who took the time to review, I really appreciate that.**

**The CSI guys are on their way, I want to check in on Randy, I know some have wanted to know the "other story". Since its Randy, it's a little on the lighter side. He always makes me laugh. Hope I don't disappoint.**

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If there was one good thing about being suspended, Randy thought, it was the time he got to do all the things that he had been putting off. Sitting on his patio chair outside his apartment, he looked at "The Disher List". 

1. Organize desk – ok, not original, he thought, but all his old pictures are there and he needed to find some specific ones.

2. Put pictures in photo album – I guess that is a big "DUH!" but Randy was methodical about his lists. _Monk would be so proud._

3. Bring photo album to the Captain – He didn't think that showing the pictures would change the Captain's mind about the suspension, but he hoped that they would just understand. Anytime that Randy had a girlfriend, real or imaginary, they never believed him. Ok, of course they wouldn't believe the imaginary ones, but for once Randy hoped that they would see that his relationship with Sara was very real.

4. Give Mr. Frisker a bath – _Maybe I should put this on the bottom of the list, _he hated washing his pomeranian, but Mr. Frisker didn't stay clean for long, and Randy had to wash him every other week. _Sigh_, I guess the sooner I wash him, the sooner Randy could bring the album to the Captain and help to solve the case.

5. Call Mom. He hadn't called her in a couple of days and for his mother, that is an eternity. She kept him on the phone for hours talking about her cats and wanting Mr. Friskers to get on the phone. Mr. Friskers loved his mother and he would sit by the phone yipping as his mother cooed.

6. Make TheRandyDisher Project a worldwide phenomenon. He smiled, _it doesn't hurt to dream._

Setting aside his list, Randy finished his tea, "Well, it's better to get this over with," he thought. Organizing his desk was a project in itself. Not that he was a messy person, it was just that he was easily……distracted. Too often he would start cleaning his desk, find a CD that he had been looking for, and wanting to listen to it, go into another room and by the time he put the CD in and turned on, he would be thinking of another song for his group: TheRandyDisher Project was the name of his band, his vision to take fusion music to the next level of entertainment. Well it really wasn't fusion music, but it sounded good to him and it was hard to describe what kind of music it is, so fusion was as good a name as any.

Organizing his mail took less time than he thought. Soon the top of his desk was taken care of, and Randy went to go through his drawers that held his pictures. Finding a picture of Sara wasn't too hard. He had lots of them. She wasn't crazy about taking pictures, but she humored him when they went out. The first picture made him smile at once. It was a Polaroid. They were cheek to cheek and she gave one of her rare gap toothed grins. It was their first date. They went in the booth and paid the $5 thinking they were going to get more than one picture. They were too busy giggling that Randy forgot to look at the lens and it looked like he was rolling his eyes and she smiled big.

"_I can't believe this Randy," Sara had said. "Five bucks for a Polaroid? And it's awful!"_

_Randy took the picture from her, "It's adorable. You don't want it?"_

"_No, you can keep it." Sara really didn't want a reminder of this date. Her friend at the Coroner's Office set her up, and this guy wasn't exactly what she had been expecting. She'd make the best of it._

They went to a movie, Rising Sun, with Sean Connery, who was a hero to Randy. Unfortunately, the movie was a dud, they were found by the usher over an hour after the movie had finished. Sara had her head on his chest, Randy's head back on the chair snoring away. It was a good thing that the guy found them, or they would have been locked in the theater. When the usher woke Randy, he saw her head on his chest, and he didn't want to wake her. She looked so peaceful there. It was there that Randy lost his heart to Sara Sidle.

Looking for more photos he found another, Randy was holding a cake, Sara was lighting the candles. After they sang, Sara gave him a gift that he still had to this day: a photo album. The front read: Randy's Memories.

"_I figured that since we started out with a photo, you would need an album to keep them in," she had said. "Happy birthday Rand."_

_She kissed him lightly on the cheek. She wasn't into public displays of affection; really she didn't show much in displaying affection of any kind. They where more than friends, Randy thought, but she played things cautiously._

Where was that album? Randy searched everywhere and couldn't find it. Then he remembered where it could be. Going into his bedroom, he looked under his bed. A large colorful hat box was under there. _There it is, he thought to himself._

The box was dusty, inside was the worn photo album. He hadn't looked at it for years. It brought back a lot of bad memories.Their relationship started out well enough, but soon her education and his band started to pull them apart. Soon their time together happened less and less often. She was taking courses at the college, and the more she went to the seminars the more she didn't want to spend time with Randy.

Opening the book the first page that fell open was one of the last they would have together. It was a picture of her sitting with Randy at a table with a mariachi man in between. She looked much put out and didn't want the picture at all, but Randy insisted. His band opened for the mariachi band at the restaurant._ It would be the last time she would come to a performance, he thought to himself, she made no bones about how she didn't like his band._

"_Randy, you guys aren't that good," she told him that night. "Why are you wasting your time?"_

"_This isn't a waste of time!" Randy was irritated at her attitude. "We are good; we just need to work out a couple of kinks."_

"_Kinks huh?" Sara asked as she picked the lettuce leaf out of his hair. "How many times were you pelted with the house salads tonight? Eight? That's a record for sure, but not a good one."_

"_It was only six, and they missed my face most of the time." He tried reasoning with her. "Some people just want to be a critic."_

_Sara stood up, she was done trying to be nice, "How many are here? Ten? So the only people that didn't throw anything at you was the bartender, and that's only because he was too far away and me. That isn't "some"."_

_Randy stood up and tried to draw her to him. She stiffened as he tried to hug her. "And I really appreciate you for that." She pulled away from him, total disgust in her face._

"_You don't get it, do you? Randy, you are a good cop, with the makings of being a great cop, and you are wasting time every night on this." She gestured to the stage. "Have you even considered taking the detective exam again?"_

"_I haven't really studied for it." He admitted this begrudgingly. She was always pushing for him furthering his education, he just didn't see why. He was going to be a rock star. He didn't need to waste time that could be used to write more music._

"_I can't do this anymore, Rand. I just came here to tell you that I'm leaving."_

"_What? You're kidding me right? Where are you going?"_

"_Vegas. I am helping a colleague with a couple of cases while he looks for a replacement CSI."_

"_CSI? That's quite a jump from the Coroners Office." Randy said, "I guess a trip to Vegas now and then would be fun. See the shows, with you." He smiled, thinking about the fun they could have._

"_Randy, you don't understand. I don't want you following me to Vegas." Sara was looking at him, and the realization on Randy's face started to seep into his features, she had to turn away. It was too horrible to watch. Kind of like looking at a kid who finds out that Santa isn't real, it was a hopelessness that was heart wrenching._

"_But….I thought we were doing so well…." Randy stuttered, "I thought there was a connection."_

_Sara tenderly held his hand, trying to comfort him when she said, "There was, but Randy I can't wait until you grow up from this dream of being a rock star. Those dreams are over. I gotta go, good bye Randy."_

He was in a state of shock as she walked away. _I can be a rock star! Just wait and see!_ He thought to himself.

Within two months he took and passed the detective's exam. The day that he received his new badge, he called LVPD and got a hold of Sara. She wasn't too pleased to hear from him. Looking back, he admitted that writing to her everyday for two months probably was a _little_ desperate, especially with ending each letter with: Anxiously awaiting your return XOXOXOXO Rand.

He sighed. He wanted to impress her, but she didn't want anything to do with it. Two days later a thick manila envelope was shipped to him, in it was all the letters he sent, unopened. The note she sent to him he put in the last page of the photo album.

_Dear Randy,_

_I don't know how to say this. At one time in our relationship, I cared about you deeply. I was alone with no one to talk to, and you were there. We had a lot of good times, but Randy, those days are over. I know how much you care about me, but, I do not love you. I won't even lie and tell you that we could "just be friends," that would be a lie. _

_You are a great guy, just not the one for me. I wish you the best of luck in your life. Congratulations of the promotion. _

_Please do not contact me anymore,_

_Sara_

Closing the book made the pain of those memories fade, a bit. He was going to do whatever he could to help with the case. He owed that to her. If it hadn't been for her prompting, he would have never taken the exam, and when she left it gave him the gumption to put TheRandyDisher project aside to focus on his work. She helped him to be the man he is, all he could do was return the favor.

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